


wildflowers don't grow in the city

by dollfacerobot



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Cautionary tale?, F/F, Fae & Fairies, Fae!Daenerys, Fae-typical cruelty and violence, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Language of Flowers, Summer Romance, YAProtagonist!Sansa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:53:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25425694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dollfacerobot/pseuds/dollfacerobot
Summary: After moving to a house at the edge of the woods with her family, Sansa starts having disturbing dreams of the forest that lead her to meet a local faerie. What begins as a twisted summer fling can only end in tragedy.
Relationships: Sansa Stark/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 18
Kudos: 53





	1. Trefoil

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aflashofgreen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aflashofgreen/gifts).



> For J. Happy birthday my friend! I hope you'll enjoy it. I apologize that it turned out so dark and messy and violent, and that it's so silly and takes itself too seriously all at the same time.
> 
> This was heavily inspired by _The Cruel Prince_ and its sequels by Holly Black. I know very little about the fae, so I lifted most of that from this book, as well as a few lines that are credited in the end notes. To a minor degree, this was inspired by _Twilight_ and other paranormal YA books with questionable romances. Another inspiration is a beautiful piece of fanart by bubug on DeviantArt called [“in the gardens of Eyrie”](https://www.deviantart.com/bubug/art/in-the-gardens-of-Eyrie-395124770).
> 
> The title is from Soccer Mommy’s song “Wildflowers”. If you like, check out my [Spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5ROaK8RcSCG1ANM4dCQtVd?si=76Yd-xI8Se-Mrm_G6a6YHQ) for this fic, also quoted liberally throughout. This fic was not beta-read, so I might go back and change some things around later. It's also worth pointing out that I haven't written fic, or much anything, in the last 5+ years.
> 
> _"[…] and in this splendid night there are saw-teeth going over my heart."_
> 
> —— Marina Tsvetaeva
> 
> _“I don’t know where I stand, faced with a cruel world.  
>  I’d say everything points to the disappearance of the girl...”_
> 
> —— Phildel, The Disappearance of the Girl __

_“I don't know how, but I'm taller,  
it must be something in the water.  
Everything's growing in our garden,  
you don't have to know that it's haunted.  _

_ The doctor put her hands over my liver  
and she told me my resentment’s getting smaller” _

—— Phoebe Bridgers, _“Garden Song”_

_ “I saw you creeping around the garden; what are you hiding?  
I beg your pardon, don't tell me ‘nothing’” _

—— Lana del Rey,  _ “Big Eyes” _

****

****

** I. **

****

_ Sansa folded her hands on her lap and let out a deep sigh. To her right, a clock was ticking. Thirty-five minutes left. _

_ “I started having these dreams”, she began. “Shortly after we moved into the new house. Dreams of the forest.” _

__

__

The Starks’ new house was the last of a series of family homes along a small winding road that went up the hill right to the edge of the forest. Their neighbor (a grumpy old man) recommended right away to put wired grids under the cars to protect the motor from racoons and martens. He also said:  _ treacherous woods _ , and then stalked away with his walking stick.

Thorny hedges of white berries surrounded the property. The house itself was two stories tall and at least half of it was overgrown with ivy. “So romantic”, Arya said in her mocking voice when they passed under a wooden arch amidst rose bushes on the slope behind the house. Sansa resisted the urge to twirl.  


The dreams started about a week after the move. She made nothing of them at first. 

Sansa’s room had tall windows overlooking the back garden through long, dreamy curtains. The forest glared at her in her room and when they sat downstairs at the kitchen table. The house was already filled with Bran, Rickon and Arya’s finds: oddly shaped branches and little stones stuffed into mason jars, assorted berries just waiting to poison someone, old tools and forgotten things they had recovered from the bushes. Bran had even found a bird skull the size of a fist.

At night, she heard a stream of water, far away, calling her to lie on its cool surface and let go. 

_ “It was always the same dream, almost. It was dark. I was in the forest. My feet hurt. I had no sense of direction. It all looked the same. Something was watching me. It was coming closer…” _

_ Sansa cleared her throat. The therapist (“Julia, call me Julia”) nodded emphatically as she proceeded to take notes. She seemed to get a lot out of this, Sansa thought. Her pen barely ever stopped moving. _

One spring morning, something rustled when she turned to get out of bed. Leaves in her hair. Her feet covered in earth. Scratches all over her arms and legs. Earthy footsteps on her wooden floor. And her nightgown… scraps of it fell to the floor when she stood up. She followed the trail out of her room, down the stairs and all the way to the front door. It was ajar. 

Sleepwalking wasn’t uncommon in the family, and anyway, everyone was busy. Their parents had been workaholics for a good while now, and Jon and Theon had joined them that year. Arya, Bran and Rickon all seemed enamored with the garden and spent all their time outside. Sansa had already been eternally annoyed at Arya leaving her “inventions” around everywhere at the old house, and shortly after the move, her sister had started building “traps” - small cages she wove out of thin branches to trap the animals that shuffled around in the garden. Everyone in the family was keeping busy. They didn’t speak of Robb.

Sansa had entered a new phase. She no longer shared her secret thoughts and dreams with her family, and kept to herself. After the Joffrey incident, she had overheard her mother tell her father how afraid she was that Sansa would remain “a helpless dreamer” and “never get a grip on reality”, so Sansa had taken to silence. 

She particularly loved the gallery at the halfway point of the winding, creaking staircase. Often, she stood there with one hand on the railing as if overlooking a joyous crowd at a ball. She could almost hear it: the clicking of champagne glasses, the murmuring, the string quartet, the clacking of dancing heels.   


Then, inevitably, one of her siblings would come running up or down the stairs and she quickly got on with it. She also loved sitting by her window. She had discovered her childhood favorites,  _ Lemony Snicket _ ,  _ Ronja the Robber’s Daughter _ and  _ A Little Princess _ in the moving boxes. The irony of over-identifying with Sara Crewe while she was (mostly) safe and sound with her well-off family didn't entirely escape Sansa.

School was a different world, almost disorienting. The car rides took them from the hazy world of their new home back into the city with its asphalt streets and honking cars. Everyone at school seemed to look at her with pity now, especially Margaery, who had taken to sit with her at lunch and prattled on and on about the school play while Sansa fiddled with her food. It was becoming hard to pay attention in class. Sometimes she was convinced something was watching her through the classroom window.

What could be done about her forest dreams? Naturally, she started by wearing shoes and a cardigan to bed. After some thought, she stole one of Jon’s flashlights from his room and put it in her pocket before sleeping. All that really accomplished was that she ruined the sneakers and lost the flashlight.

The sleepwalking didn’t worry her very much at first, besides the fact that she would quickly run out of nightgowns if she didn’t want to wear them in tatters. Much the opposite, actually. It felt like her somewhere, part of her was having an adventure. She only had to catch up to it.

In the end, it was one of Arya’s traps by the edge of the bushes that lined the edge of the forest that made her stumble one night. She went down hard and felt a sharp pain in her right hand. She cursed and flexed the hand. 

Then she realised that she was practically lying on her face in the garden, Arya’s trap crushed under her. She heard a crunching sound above her. Her heart thumped in her chest as she glanced up.

To her surprise, her eyes had already adapted to the darkness. Soft moonbeams lit the garden’s silhouettes. Directly in front of her, the bushes had started moving, and the branches were realigning to shape a portal that led into the darkness of the woods. She stared, and it stared back.

That night, she scrambled to her feet and ran back into the house. When she reached her window, the hedge had already closed again. 

_ “And you say you didn’t tell anyone?”, the therapist asked when Sansa fell silent and clasped her hands, still glancing at the clock. _

_ “No.” _

_ “And  _ nobody _ noticed that you vanished from the house for hours at night?” _

_ Sansa felt the hard stone of resentment in her stomach. “No”, she said again. “As I said, there was a lot going on with everyone.” She saw that the therapist wanted to hear something else. “I - we were grieving, obviously. But this is not related.” _

_ The therapist just lifted her eyebrows.  _

_ “They found out eventually.”, Sansa admitted and glanced at the clock.  _

_ Lady nuzzled at her legs when Sansa unbound her after the session. They walked away together.  _

__   


** II.  **

Her escape that night had one clear effect: whatever was watching her came closer. So close that she felt its touch on her hair in the darkness, coming almost into focus. Judging by how tired she was, her trips were getting longer. Food lost its taste for a while.

The sounds of the forest were now always around her. There was the rustling of leaves, the crunch of her footsteps, the occasional cry of an owl. An odd jingle, far away, that was drawing her towards it, lights dancing over bubbling water. The closer she got, the more it sounded like whispers. Sometimes she thought she saw lights dancing in the darkness. Scariest of all was the mist that enveloped her even when she awoke in her bedroom.

Scratch that - scariest of all were the excited shivers that ran down her spine.

As days passed, more questions emerged. What if she woke somewhere else? The garden had scared her good enough, but what if she woke up in the forest? 

She felt that her dream self was edging closer to conscience now. She could almost turn her head by herself. Whatever drew her outside always returned her to her bed, but could she make it back by herself? Worse, what if someone found her in the forest? A hunter, perhaps, or someone walking their dog? What would they think, and worse, what would they  _ do _ ?

She started wearing her longest coat, stuffing a pocket knife into her pockets. She didn’t dare to take her phone. Apart from Jon’s flashlight, she had lost two more (cheap ones she had bought at the electricity store in front of the school).

She awoke in the forest one night when her foot caught on a root and she fell. Her cry ripped through a sudden silence. Far away, some leaves were rustling. She slowly got up and looked around. A second ago, she had moved so surely, as if guided. Now, all directions looked the same. Her entire body was shaking. Something brushed past her. Her shoulders and arms tingled. She ran. 

Sansa woke with whispers in her head.  _ Sweet. So sweet. So sweet. So pretty.  _

Most perturbing:  _ Come to me. _

_ Be mine. _

__

“You have something in your hair”, Margaery said one day and leaned over to remove what seemed a small bush of oval-shaped leaves. Sansa’s heart dropped to her stomach and she didn’t dare move. Margaery was examining the leaflets, retracing them shape with her thumb. “You know you should invite me to your new house. You made it sound so romantic!”

Sansa took a sip from her cranberry juice. “It’s quite boring, actually.”, she said in a detached voice. 

This morning, she had found two very long white (or silver?) hairs on the shoulder of her coat and had spent twenty minutes frantically combing through her locks to see if they were hers.

Margaery was still looking at the small stem in her hand. “Did you know this is from a Rowan tree?”

Sansa looked over at the leaves with more interest. “I didn’t know that was what it was called. We have one in the garden.”

“My grandmother also has one in her garden. It has these huge red berries, right?” Margaery twirled the stem between her thumb and index finger and held it out to Sansa. “They’re supposed to have, like,  _ magical _ qualities.”

“Really?” She took the stem from Margaery and examined it closer. “Like what?”

“For once, they are fairy food and can sustain humans for, like, nine meals or something. And if you eat a few you won’t age for a hundred years.” Margaery laughed and pushed a curl back behind her ear.

“I might need that”, Sansa said. “I think I found a white hair this morning.”

Margaery didn’t seem shocked. “My grandmother apparently already had all-white hair when she was thirty”, she said. “And she was  _ stunning _ .”

“But will I be?”

“Most definitely. But you shouldn’t worry about a few white hairs.” Margaery threw her a glance Sansa couldn’t quite place. She looked back at her hands quickly. “Anyway, the berries also shield you from enchantments if you wear them as a necklace.”

Sansa’s heart skipped a beat. “ _ Really? _ ”

“I mean, you know. According to fairy enthusiasts. My grandmother believes in that stuff.”

“Do you?”

Margaery shrugged. “I mean, I don’t know. She always used to tell me she had met fairies when I was a child, but that’s probably just a story, right?” She seemed thoughtful for a while and then added: “Her house was also near the forest. She always made me wear my socks inside out when I stayed at her house so I wouldn’t be  _ led astray _ . That’s what she called it.” She made a face. “My mother was not amused. Do you want to share this?” 

She held out a muesli bar. 

_ “And Margaery had also been Joffrey’s girlfriend?” _

_ Sansa could see that Julia was looking at the therapy tree she had drawn in their first session.  _

_ “Yeah. I mean, very shortly.” _

_ Pencil scratching._

_“Were you friends before?” _

_“Yes. But she didn’t know.” _

_ More silence.  _

_ Sansa sighed. “I mean, I didn’t tell her.” _

** III. **

After school, Sansa picked berries from the rowan tree and went up to her room. She ignored Jon’s glance at her red hands as they almost ran into each other on the stairs, and locked herself in her room. Her sewing box was still in a moving box under the bed. She fished it out. It had been her most holy possession since she got it two Christmases ago, hand-painted by Bran and her mother. She had embroidered  _ everyone’s _ clothes. Last time she had used it had been just a few days before Robb’s disappearance, when she had lined wolves all along the collar of his grey sweater. The same one the police had found him in, the wolves all drenched in blood.

She took a needle and some thick thread and made a necklace with twenty berries. They were surprisingly dry, and she had to force the needle through. At least it would hold. She made it long enough so she could hide it under the collar of her nightgown.

At night, she lay in bed in her coat with pockets full of more berries and the pocket-knife, her ruined sneakers and her stockings inside-out, and waited for sleep that wouldn’t come. Around two in the morning, she almost drifted off when she heard scratching at her window, but there was nothing there. A slight breeze was rustling through the trees. Did it say  _ Come _ , or did she imagine it? It was almost full moon.

Then she saw the woman near the hedge. 

She was an utterly otherworldly sight. Her long hair shone silvery in the moonlight. Her face was covered in shadow, but Sansa knew she was looking up at her. When she blinked, the woman was gone.

Whatever possessed her, Sansa slipped out of the house and followed the garden path towards where she had stumbled over Arya’s trap almost two weeks ago. She heard every footstep. Something fluttered above her and disappeared in the darkness. She was being watched.

Almost obediently, the bushes gave away and formed an arch to let her through. Sansa almost feared they would wind around her and trap her, but she passed through the portal. It closed behind her.

It was much darker on this side of the hedge. Almost immediately, she was surrounded by tall, old gnarly trees. Every step made a crunching sound on the bed of leaves, moss and fallen branches. After she had walked for a few minutes, hoping she was walking in a straight line, she stopped in a clearing and waited.

She didn’t have to wait long. A shadow passed between the trees, far away at first, then closer and closer. Sansa’s hand clutched the knife in her pocket.

Something crashed behind her, as if a huge branch had fallen. She spun around. Nothing.

Mist was pooling around her feet, mist that hadn’t been there previously. Her breath hitched. Something pulled at her hair. Again, she looked around. Nothing. 

She should  _ really _ go back to the house, but it seemed to late now.

Even her breath was making little clouds now. She shivered. “I’m - I’m here”, she said with a shaking voice. “I  _ saw _ you. C-come out now.”

She heard laughing, and froze. This was new. It was melodious, like the sound of tiny bells. Leaves rustled in a breeze, then silence. 

“You’re wearing rowan berries”, a voice said to her right. Sansa spun around.

A woman - or girl? - was standing there, half-hidden by a thick oak tree. “Smart”, she said and smirked. She looked absolutely unreal. No moonlight was necessary to make her hair shine, apparently. Intricate braids framed her sharp face with dark, sinister eyes and fell down to her hips in soft waves. Her long gown seemed to be made of dark vines that grew around her body and folded out into branches from her shoulders, forming a thicket high collar. A black velvet skirt overgrown with vines fell down to the floor, where the vines spread like roots. 

“It’s you”, Sansa said breathlessly. “You’ve been calling to me.”

Were those pointy ears?

“Indeed.”

“You’ve been taking me to the forest.”

Another smirk. “I didn’t have to”, the girl said. “You came all by yourself.”

“But you followed me. You  _ scared _ me.” Sansa found her voice steadier than she thought. But she took a step back when Sansa moved forwards to get a better look at her.

The girl’s eyes flashed like a cat’s. “ _ Scared _ you?”, she echoed. “You seemed to rather like it.”

Sansa’s breath hitched.

“Oh, how pretty you blush.”

Her cheeks felt even hotter. 

“I found you in the forest”, the girl said then. “You are very clumsy.” She chuckled. “But you were smart with the berries.”

The knife in her pocket had slipped out of her sweaty fingers. Sansa clutched it again. “Why follow me? Why call to me? Were you - were you enchanting me?”

“Look at you, what a brave little thing.” Now the girl came towards her. Her steps made no sound, as if she wasn’t even touching the ground. “Of course I was. I’m playing with you.”

It occurred to Sansa then there was also something very scary, almost feral about her beauty, and especially about her smile.  _ A predator _ , she thought.  _ Playing with its food. _ “What - what are we playing?”

The smile the girl sent her sent shivers down her spine. She took another step further towards Sansa, who felt petrified, but then moved to her left, circling. “What do you want to play? You found me now, after all. What do you call that, Hide and Seek?” She leaned over towards her, so close that Sansa felt her breath in her hair. “Is it my turn to find you now?”

Sansa found that she was unable to move, or speak. She knew the girl stood directly behind her now, watching. The backs of her arms were tingling. Warmth had spread all over her body. She wanted -- 

A gust of wind told her she had gone. With her hammering heart beating almost painfully in her chest, she turned in a circle.

_ Thirty _ , the wind whispered to her.

_ Twenty-nine _ .

She ran.

** IV.  **

She remembered little of the days that followed. She was so tired she almost fell asleep at school a few times. The nights, though.

At night, she went outside. If she didn’t, it wasn’t long before she heard a scratching sound at her window, usually left ajar. (She didn’t dwell on the reasons for this.)

The girl didn’t always show herself, and often disappeared quickly when Sansa spied her. She was very playful. 

_ Found you _ , she whispered and pulled Sansa’s hair. 

She loved playing games, especially guessing games, and calling Sansa stupid. She also really liked making Sansa run and fall over.

Why Sansa went along with it, she couldn’t quite answer, and she carefully avoided questioning her behavior too much. But it had probably something to do with the thumping of her heart and the warm feeling deep in her body she got whenever she felt her hair pulled, or the girl’s clawy hand brushed the back of her neck. She hadn’t determined yet whether the girl was  _ malicious _ . She was definitely dangerous.

Often, there was nothing but a whisper.

_ What is harder to catch, the faster you run? _

She let Sansa contemplate for a while before scaring her with a bunch of bats coming out of nowhere. Sansa ran and ran until she almost toppled over. Then she had to hold onto a tree to steady herself. A whoosh, and the girl stood behind her, so close that their bodies almost touched.

“So?"

Sansa coughed and touched her forehead against the rough bark. “My- my breath.”

The girl stroked her hair. “Very well done.”

Sansa closed her eyes. “Are the rowan berries not working?"   


“Hm?” She felt fingers brush her ear, and jolted.

“I thought the berries helped against enchantments."

“They do.” Two hands had come to rest on her shoulders. “Oh, you mean you feel  _ enchanted _ ?” The girl laughed silkily. “Stupid girl. They are by far not strong enough.” But she seemed to take pity on Sansa. Her hand slid down her arm and she took her hand, pulling her away from the tree. “Why don’t you lie down and rest for a bit?”

Sansa found that she would like that very much. To her surprise, they were surrounded by hazy light. The ground was soft. The girl sat down with her and pulled her head into her lap, stroking her hair. Sansa gazed up at her odd, sharp features. When she leaned over Sansa, her hair tickled her cheek. 

“What is your name anyway?”, Sansa asked. Little lights seemed to be surrounding them, dancing in the darkness. “Let me guess, is it Queen of the Forest?”

She was rewarded with another flash of violet eyes. “I’m not about to tell you my True Name, stupid one. But you can call me Dany.”

“So you don’t have any titles?”

Dany chuckled. “I do, of course.” She went back to taking Sansa’s locks up one by one. “They call me Stormborn”, she whispered. “Princess that was promised. The Dragon’s daughter.”

“There are dragons?”, Sansa asked, still dazed. How she wished to touch that face looming over her.

“Of course. You really know nothing, do you?”

Sansa thought for a moment. “You haven’t asked me my name, ever.”

Dany looked more serious. “Why do you think that is?”

“Maybe you don’t care enough to know it”, Sansa blurted out before she could think it over.  


“If you know a being’s name, you have power over it”, Dany said curtly. She peered around them into the darkness. 

Something else was tugging at Sansa’s mind about what Dany had said before. “Are there more of you?”

“Of course there are.” Dany’s smile showed a row of sharp teeth. “I’m sure they would love to get their hands on you, plump and sweet as you are.” She pinched Sansa’s cheek and leaned over her. “They wouldn’t be as nice to you as I am.”

Sansa shuddered. “Would they hurt me?”

“You might get hurt.”

“I’m getting hurt with you”, Sansa whispered. 

Dany  _ laughed _ . “That’s down to your own stupidity. You just love falling down and running into trees. But I haven’t hurt you yet. Not on purpose.”

_ Yet. _ The ground felt much chillier all of a sudden. Sansa shuffled uncomfortably, but said nothing. Dany was right, she  _ was _ stupid. Night after night, she came down here to be chased about and slam into trees. All to have her hair pulled and be touched, and not even as much as she wanted.

“Look how I scared you there”, Dany said. “But you know I’m just playing with you.” Her fingers were soft again, stroking Sansa’s cheek. Her other hand rested lightly on her shoulder. “And I know you love it”, she whispered.

Once again, Sansa felt a sense of dizzy calmness overwhelm her, but by now she knew not to trust it. It was just impossible to resist for the moment.

“Look how careful I am with you now”, Dany showed her the back of her hand. Her fingers have a thorn at each knuckle, and thorns ridge her arm disappearing under the sleeve of her gown.

Sansa deduced that she hadn’t always been so careful. That explained some of the scratches she had found on herself.   


Those same perilous fingers now framed her face, and unexpectedly, Dany shifted. She leaned down and touched her lips to Sansa’s, softly at first. She tasted like sweetness and frost. 

They stayed for a long time, Dany’s body pressing Sansa into the grass.

“So tell me your name.  _ A _ name, I mean”, Dany said when they reached the hedge again. Sansa had no idea for how long they had walked. “Make one up, if you like.”

Sansa chose the first name that came to mind. “Alayne”, she said. “You can call me Alayne.”

Later, it occurred to her that Dany already knew her real name. 

_ The therapist had stopped asking her questions, at least the intrusive kind. No more “Why do you think you did that?” or “How did you feel about that?” No more mentions of Joffrey or Robb. She also took fewer notes. Their sessions went by quickly now. Once she started talking, Sansa found it was hard to stop. _

_ Afterwards, she took a walk through the woods with Lady. _


	2. Nettles

_ “Fever dream high, in the quiet of the night  
_ _ You know that I caught it (...)  
_ _ Killing me slow, out the window  
I'm always waiting for you to be waiting below  
Devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes  
What doesn't kill me makes me want you more...” _

—— Taylor Swift, _“Cruel Summer”_

_ “You want the summer lightning, throw the knives, / and tear the warm veins open to the air. _ ”

—— Ingeborg Bachmann, _ “The Firstborn Land” _

__

** V. **

It was definitely summer now, and it was no longer bearable to wear her coat in the heat even at night. The forest was humming with life even at night, and the air felt thick against Sansa’s skin. She had gotten better at walking without getting scratches all over her, but she still had to hand-wash the dirty socks she wore inside-out. “If you want to go barefoot”, Dany said casually one night, “Any clothes worn inside-out will do”, but maybe it was just one of her tricks to make Sansa sleepwalk again. Also, she needed to wear shoes to hide her pocket knife in them now.

“What do you do during the day?”, Sansa wondered one night, after she had been chased by a boar (to Dany’s delight) and only escaped by climbing up a tree, something she hadn’t thought herself capable of. The boar had taken offence when Sansa had unknowingly stirred up its babies. Of course, Dany hadn’t warned her, but she helped her down from the tree afterwards. 

Their fingers brushed, then clasped. “I sleep”, she said. “I get up when the sun begins to set, at twilight.” She steadied Sansa when she stumbled and then pressed her against the tree to kiss her. Sansa liked how tiny Dany felt when she put her arms around her, how soft she could be when she wanted to.

Sansa knew that she was losing her grip. She had lost almost all interest in her daily activities, spending most of her afternoons exhausted and falling asleep over her homework. The edges of night and day were blurring, and the clear sight of the forest her inside-out socks had granted her seemed was fading. She lived for sensations now, the flutter of eyelashes on her skin, elbows digging into her ribs, the buzz of fear, kissing, shivers, sighs.

“My summer holidays begin soon”, Sansa said as she traced Dany’s perfect pointy ears. “I’ll be home all day.”

“Holidays?”

“From school.”, Sansa clarified. 

Dany let out a snort. “What do you mortals even learn there? You seem to know so little.   


“Do you know any other mortals? Have you ever been outside the forest?”

“You really know nothing, mortal.” Dany stepped away from her in a swift movement. “You really think I live here in the forest, don’t you?”

She left Sansa leaning against the tree and disappeared out of sight to her right. Sansa tried to keep up. “Well, you’ve never told me where you live, or shown me.”

Since she was taller, it was not really hard to catch up, and she grabbed Dany’s hand again as they walked.

“I live in a palace with my family”, Dany said with not just a streak of arrogance. “My father is Aerys Targaryen, Second of His Name, King of the Summer Court.   


“Is it just like the stories?”, Sansa asked, knowing how stupid it was when she asked it.

But Dany only smirked knowingly. “Yes.”

“And do you have siblings?”, Sansa went on. 

Dany strode on. “Two brothers. Rhaegar and Viserys.” She kept looking up, as if she was looking for something.

“And what do you do in the winter?”

That earned her a proper side-eye. “’Tis always summer, stupid.”

Sansa didn’t dare ask any more questions for a while. Instead, she watched and listened as Dany fell into birdsong. Soon, they were surrounded by all kinds of winged creatures that her mother would be disappointed to know she couldn’t identify. They sat on their shoulders and nested in their hair. Dany didn’t seem to mind, and Sansa knew trying to get them out of her hair would probably backfire and ruin her braids as Dany laughed at her.

“Where did you learn to sing like that?”, Sansa asked her finally, when they had fluttered away again and disappeared into the night. Only a raven still sat on Dany’s shoulder, eyeing Sansa suspiciously through its black eyes.

“At school.” --  _ The shade _ , Sansa thought -- “Unlike you, I learned useful things.”

Sansa couldn’t resist. “What else did you learn?”

They had stepped into another clearing. Dany gestured upward. “The constellations of the sky, obviously. We would be lost if not for the guidance of the stars.” Then she bent down to pick up something off the floor, and gave it to Sansa. It was a small purple flower. “The language of people and flowers.” She gave her a meaningful look.

Sansa twirled the flower in her hand. She knew it was some type of red clover, beloved by bees. She had no idea what it meant. 

“The art of composing riddles”, Dany went on. “Which - I don’t even need to ask - I know  _ you _ know very little of.” With that she disappeared.

“Let me guess”, Sansa said. “Walking without a sound and hiding from mortal eyes is also on the curriculum. Or is that an innate skill?”

“Some of it”, Dany said, suddenly whispering in her ear again. Even though Sansa only gave the slightest jump, she seemed delighted. “We know some enchantments instinctively, but we must hone our skills. I can also play some instruments, shoot arrows and use blades, and so on.” 

“Do you have a blade on you right now?”, Sansa asked nervously.

“Of course. Enemies might spring at me at any moment.” As if to prove it, she produced a ornate curved blade out of nowhere. “Don’t give me that look, dollface. You have a knife on you right now, don’t think I can tell.” She played with the blade and laughed when Sansa took a step back. “Coward. I can also throw it. I could hit an apple on the top of your head.” Her violet eyes were full of glee. “It could be a game.”

“Right”, Sansa said. “No, thanks.”

But Dany always wanted to play games. Sansa tried introducing her own, with some difficulty. She realised quickly that her riddles were no challenge for Dany and only gave her more cause to call Sansa stupid. She also learned that Dare Me was a very bad idea, because the bottle always landed on her and Dany made her do things like stand on one leg until it hurt so much she started crying and begged Dany to make it stop. Crying and begging always seemed to amuse Dany. Generally, she enjoyed anything that involved Sansa running, falling, getting scratches or feeling humiliated. 

Another night, when Sansa’s feet were burning from walking through stinging nettles (Dany’s fault), she told her to sod off (in flowery language she wouldn’t repeat) and stomped back into the house. As she pressed a cooling pad to her foot in the kitchen, she swore she wouldn't go back again.

_ “I know what you’re thinking”, Sansa said.  _ __

_ “What am I thinking?” _

_ Sansa narrowed her eyes and leaned back in her chair. “It had already happened with Joffrey.  _ How _ was I letting myself abused again?” _

_ “You blame yourself?” _

_ “Well - I mean -  _ you _ know. Was I so used to it that only bad things felt good? Or was I just like every other idiot mortal who’s pined away for another bite of goblin fruit?" _ _  
_

_ Julia just looked back at her. _

_ “Okay”, Sansa said finally. “Let me rephrase that. I know what  _ I _ am thinking.” _

It was almost convenient when Margaery insisted to visit the house the next day (“after  _ all this time” _ ), since she was off to Saint-Tropez with her family the following week. They could picnic in the forest.  _ No way _ was she going into the woods with Margaery, Sansa thought. She still said yes. She stared at Sansa’s bare legs in the car while questioning Jon about his new job. “I walk in the forest a lot”, Sansa said quickly, and adjusted her skirt. “Stepped into some nettles.” She avoided Jon’s glance in the rearview mirror. 

They did homework for all of twenty minutes in Sansa’s room before Margaery insisted on starting their picnic. They assembled a basket in the kitchen: lemonade, bread, cheese, assorted berries and two pears. 

With considerable effort, she was able to convince Margaery to sit in the garden instead of venturing in the forest. She still felt as if she was sitting on a stage as they spread their blanket in the half-shadow beneath the rowan tree. Arya, Bran and Rickon all had gone home to friends’ houses as well.

“You always wear that necklace now”, Margaery said when they had eaten most of the food. She had put on her sunglasses and was lying flat on the blanket now, her curls spread around her head and shoulders.

Sansa touched the necklace unconsciously. “Seemed like a good idea”, she said vaguely, glancing towards the forest. Nothing moved. She cleared her throat. “I mean, it looks pretty.”

Margaery didn’t seem very convinced, but let it drop and asked Sansa about Theon and Jon instead. Patchwork families - in the end, it always came down to that. People loved hearing about it. 

There wasn’t much to say, in truth. After her last growth spurt, Jon had become even shier towards her than before, while Theon had become meaner. Sansa told her about Jon’s girlfriend Ygritte instead, and that Theon would die alone.

Sansa looked down on Margaery and her marvelous cheekbones and the beautiful ginger brown ringlets that framed her forehead, and wondered how she could ever have fancied  _ Joffrey _ , or any boy before him. It all seemed pretty obvious now.

They spent a nice, if at times a little awkward afternoon in the garden lounging around and identifying flowers (Margaery was very knowledgeable) before Margaery’s brother picked her up. Sansa felt hot and uncomfortable after their afternoon in the sun. She was pretty sure she had a sunburn. Loras seemed cool as a cucumber as he waited with her by the entrance as Margaery picked up her things from upstairs. He winked at Sansa before she closed the door behind them.

_ “Now that I think about it”, Sansa shifted in her chair, crossing her legs. “At this point, I believe Theon had started teasing me about hickeys. I didn’t make too much out of it. I mean, I  _ did _ scream at him and slam some doors, you know... but I didn’t think it meant anything. Even Arya had a boyfriend, and they were hanging around the house all the time...” _ __

_ “But still, nobody realized you left the house at night and were barely sleeping?” Julia adjusted her glasses. _

_ “Oh, that. So I didn’t know at the time, and um, I didn’t care at all, but there was probably an enchantment.” Sansa didn’t like this part. “They realized eventually, though.” _

__

Night fell over the house. She spent the evening taking care of her skin and trying to cool off. She felt quite nervous. Bedtime came and she lay awake.

The wind was howling that night. She didn’t have to wait long before something moved in front of her window, pushing the lock open. The curtain began to flow ominously. Sansa got up and moved to close the window again. 

She only heard a soft hum before something swooshed past her ear and ripped into her bookshelf. A long knife was still stirring in the back of her copy of  _ The Princess Bride _ . A strand of hair was falling from her shoulder to the floor.

She looked outside and below, and there stood Dany, looking furious and beautiful. “Come downstairs.”, she commanded.

“Did you just throw a  _ knife _ at me?” Sansa hissed.

“Come now, Alayne _. _ ”, Dany repeated. She had another blade in her fist.

“Not if you keep threatening me, I don’t think”, Sansa said, even though she could feel the pull already. She had suspected it for a while. Rowan berries were no match for a real geas.

“I’ll start throwing stones”, Dany said.

“Very convincing. Keep going. Soon you’ll wake  _ everyone in the house! _ ” Her hiss became a hoarse shout. She hoped the wind was loud enough.

“Nobody is waking up”, Dany said dismissively. “Come down, or I’ll come up."   


Sansa sighed.

Dany waited for her under the arch by the rosebushes. The way the wind was blowing, she looked like a warrior goddess. The blade had disappeared in the folds of her gown again. 

They eyed each other.

“This is stupid”, Sansa finally said. She tried the words. “I have enough of it.” Her heart was beating fast. 

Dany looked livid. “Do you mean that?”

Of course she didn’t. “Yes”, she said. “I have enough of it. You are having fun. I - I’m getting hurt. I have enough. That’s all there is to it.”

Dany’s voice was smooth, but it barely covered the fury in her eyes. “You know I wouldn’t let you get  _ really _ hurt.”

“Do I know that?” Sansa shrugged. “Do you even know what  _ really hurt _ means in human terms? It seems to me you wouldn’t notice you’d broken your toy until you did.”

“Then what makes you think I even care at all about what you want? What would stop me from just doing whatever I like with you?”

“The berries, for once."   


“Your little necklace? I could have snapped that thing with one finger any time I’d liked. And anyway, there are  _ many _ other ways to make you do what I want.”

Sansa crossed her hands before her chest. “Then there’s really nothing I can do about that, can I?”

She didn’t expect the outburst that came next. “ _How_ _dare you_ -”, Dany was even pointing her long sharp index finger at Sansa’s face, ” _-after all the kindness I’ve shown you, you-_ "

“ _ Kindness _ ?”, Sansa echoed. “The kindness of what, of your royal company?”

”-you parade around here eating berries out of some mortal’s hand like you are about to tumble in the grass-“

Sansa didn’t know how to respond to that except to giggle. “I am also a mortal, as you like to remind me.”

Dany lowered her hand and glowered. “You have offended my honor”, she said. “I gave you a trefoil so you would know I want you to be  _ mine _ .”

“I thought we had established I know nothing... She’s a friend, though”, Sansa said but admitted, “I knew it would upset you a little. I’m still mad at you because of the nettles.”

There was no response at first as Dany stared back at her. Then she said stiffly, “They are actually quite good for your health. You mortals die quickly enough as is.”

Sansa needed a moment before she understood this for the backhanded compliment it was. “I meant what I said. I know you won’t say you’re sorry”, she added quickly. “But is there nothing but games and violence you like?”

She knew her mistake right away, but it was too late. The playful expression had returned to Dany’s eyes. “I quite enjoy kissing as well.”

It was infuriating that this still made Sansa blush. “I meant” - she tried collecting her thoughts - “couldn’t you teach me to make magic potions or read the stars?” Something else ocurred to her. “Or maybe you know how to stitch or embroider with glamours?”

This only earned her a look of disgust. “Dressmakers make my gowns. I don’t do needlework.” Before Sansa could answer, Dany took her hand and pulled her towards the forest. “I suppose we could look at the stars, but your eyes are very weak and you wouldn’t really see enough to  _ understand _ . But I have a better idea.”  ****

Her steps accelerated as they passed through the portal in the hedge. She seemed almost back to her giddy self - which made Sansa naturally suspicious.

They walked for a good while and changed directions so often that Sansa was sure they must be going in circles. She kept rubbing her fingers over Dany’s thorny knuckles, just enough so it didn’t hurt. It was quite addictive. Just when she had no idea where they were anymore, she heard... music.

They were moving towards a circle of glowing light. The closer they got, the more clearly she could hear the humming of music and voices.

“Is that a party?”, Sansa whispered.

“A gathering.”

“Are- are we in your country now?”

“Just barely. Did you notice when we passed?” Dany asked, but then thought better of it. “No, you wouldn’t have.”

_ Is this safe? _ , she wanted to ask. Why had she gone without asking any questions? “Didn’t you say that...” She tried to remember. “That others wouldn’t be as nice to me as you were?”

Dany laughed. “I meant my brothers. Mostly. And they’re not there.”

That wasn’t really much comfort, but the glowing lights and the music sounded lovely. Even from where they were, she could see that some people were gathered around a fire. Some were sitting, others dancing.

“Don’t worry. This will be fun.” Dany seemed to have read her mind. “Also, you’re with me. Just don’t eat any magical fruit if you don’t want to lose control.”

“Lose control?” Of course, there was no answer. “How do I know it’s magical?”

Dany rolled her eyes. “I’ll tell you.”

Countless pairs of eyes were on them as they stepped into the light and mingled in the crowd. Sansa felt uncomfortable for about one minute before she forgot why she had been nervous in the first place. 

It was really  _ lovely _ . It smelled like burning rosemary and mead. All around them, beautiful, strange creatures with long ears, and twirled horns or flittery wings were dancing and laughing and drinking. Sansa felt terribly plain, but found she didn’t mind at all. There were little groups of cushions with baskets of food here and there, filled with green apples and bread and small cakes. A young man with red eyes and a tail was playing the harp, a melody so beautiful and merry it made her want to dance. 

She looked at Dany to see her watching her already with a triumphant grin on her face. She pulled her close and then let her go into a twirl. 

Sansa couldn’t believe the graceful creature dancing with her and whispering in her ear was real, or any of this. She felt... absolutely happy.

_ “I was less happy the next morning. Had the worst hangover of my life.”, Sansa said nine years later and shuddered at the memory. _

They had said their good-bye under the same rose bushes the night had begun. Even Dany looked flushed with wine and dance. She was still making up for having left Sansa alone for what seemed like hours. She’d found her exhausted and crying because she couldn’t stop dancing and her feet were bleeding. They had argued the entire way back, so Dany was in a great mood. When she had enough of Sansa’s accusations and whining, she pulled so hard at her dress that it ripped at the front.

Sansa stumbled back to her room later feeling that she had been utterly ravaged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From _The Cruel Prince_ , Chapter 8: "Was I so used to it that only bad things felt good? Or was I just like every other idiot mortal who’s pined away for another bite of goblin fruit?"
> 
> Faerie curriculum from _The Cruel Prince_ as well.


	3. Snowball

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains minor suicide imagery.

****

****

_ “Climb into my bed with me and let's curl up  
I think too much...  
_ _ Get into my head with me and make it stop  
_ _ I wanna be more like you (you, you),  
More like the frost in bloom (bloom, bloom)...” _

—— Allie X,  _ “Madame X” _   


_“I was a heavy heart to carry,  
_ _ My feet dragged across the ground,  
_ _ As you took me to the river  
_ _ Where you slowly let me drown.” _

—— Florence & the Machine, “ _ Heavy in your arms"  
_

****

** VI. **

Most of the summer passed in such a fever dream.

In mid-August, she finally managed to catch up on some sleep when Dany announced a week-long absence due to “court duties”.

(“And you’re not coming to  _ that _ ”, she declared.

“What will you be doing?”

“Amusing myself, obviously. Some intrigue. Maybe an assassination or two.”

Sansa didn’t even pretend to be scandalized. “Will you be doing the backstabbing, then?”

“Father will probably deal with some traitors, and there are some rebelling houses. Public execution, trial by fire, or the like. They  _ shouldn’t _ have woken the dragon.”

Sansa was intrigued. “Rebelling houses?” Something clicked. “So you are from the house of the dragon?”

“House Targaryen. I think I mentioned that.”

“What does it mean - are you descended from dragons?” It was a wild guess that would probably only bring her Dany’s ridicule, but she was curious.

“It means we share a bond with them. Our ancestors were dragonriders”, Dany said with glistening eyes. “They conquered the Summer Court and united the courts under one crown, ruling for thousands of years. Nobody would have dared-” She stopped abruptly. “Anyway, the dragons are gone now, so you can’t pet any, if that was what you’re wondering.”

She hadn’t been very far off. “And the other houses?”

Dany snorted. “Let’s just say that they have common animals on their sigils.”

“And will you be queen?”

“I would have to kill my brothers first”, Dany said, but made no further comment on whether that was an obstacle.)

Sansa slept peacefully for a few nights and began to regain some consciousness of her surroundings, only to find that her family was once again in rapid decline. They were following their annual choreography, steering toward that time of year when her mother was most likely found weeping in her bedchamber and Arya and Rickon disappeared for days on end. Their father, the absentee-workaholic, spoke even less than usual, joined by Bran, who only spoke cryptically about the faraway future or past. Theon was constantly drunk. The only one who could still pass as “normal” was Jon, but he avoided Sansa like the plague.

Then again, with her recent behavior she wasn’t one to talk. As they were crunching on their silent cereal, the only meal that consistently drew enough family members to the table to be called even a small crowd, she considered what it would be like to present Dany to her family. The thought made her squirm with all the things that could and would go wrong, but at least it would be a distraction.

Her period of rest didn’t last long. Only four nights in, she lay awake because the sound of the river was too loud. She hadn’t yet seen the river, not even on her walks with Dany, but she knew exactly where it was, winding through the forest. It was refreshing at first, a splashing here and there, but soon she could hear every fish gasping for air and every frog and toad making their croaking sounds -- and again, it was calling to her. It was almost a song.

It was very hot in her room. How nice it would be to swim, she thought, thrashing around in her nightgown. To swim in cool water, to have it coat her skin like a second skin, to feel fresh and new. To sink into it completely, to spread out her limbs like a water strider and let go.

She was well on her way through the forest with a towel tugged under her arm when she felt something catch up to her. 

She didn’t notice at first because she was so focused on the river. She was so thirsty. The water would be cool and clear, she was sure of it, and glistening beautifully in the moonlight. She longed to let her fingers glide through it and follow the patterns before they disappeared. Why had they never gone?

When she heard a crack behind her, she stopped and looked around. She hadn’t been alone in the forest before. She realized she hadn’t even brought her pocket knife, that useless thing. Her heart was thumping in her chest.

Of course, there was nothing. 

After another few steps she heard another rustling of leaves, as if something was moving between the trees. It was freeze or flee now.

She was about to drop her towel and make a run for it when a silvery head appeared behind the trees. Relief flooded her. Her hand flew up to her heart.

Dany stepped into sight. She looked as surprised as Sansa, and something like worry crossed her face before she hid it. “What are you doing here?”

Sansa almost threw herself at her. She clutched her towel, realizing she was not so sure herself. “I... I was going for a swim, I think.”

Evidently Dany was about to say something, but then another head of long silvery curls and dancing, sinister eyes stepped out behind her, a young man in an elegant shiny tunic that seemed to be made of dragon scales. “The call of the sirens, is it?”

“This is Prince Viserys, my brother”, Dany said stiffly and shot Sansa a threatening look.

Maybe it was telepathy, or maybe it ocurred to Sansa to bow out of sheer luck. She did as she had seen in  _ Pride and Prejudice. _

“This is the mortal girl I told you about”, Dany said in a patronizing tone.

“What a pretty little bird”, Viserys said and sized Sansa up with what could only be described as a creeping gaze. “What’s your name, bird?”

“A-Alayne.” Sansa cleared her throat. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was very, very wrong, but Dany wouldn’t look her in the eyes.

Viserys’ eyes flashed like an anime villain’s glasses. “ _ Enchanted _ .”

Sansa didn’t know what to say.

“Little birds shouldn’t be going swimming all by themselves”, Dany said.

“She’s right”, Viserys agreed. “There are all kinds of things that like to eat little birds.”

This was comforting. 

“Don’t make a sad face, little bird”, he said in a cheerful voice, and to her horror, picked up a lock of her hair to twirl around his claw-like finger. “We’ll go with you! Do you fancy a swim as well, sister?”

Dany’s expression was sour. “You should go back.”, she told Sansa without affection.

“I should go back”, repeated Sansa dumbly. She looked around herself. She had no idea where she was. 

“Already?” Viserys laughed. “Don’t be a rabbit. We don’t bite - well, not always.”

To Sansa’s surprise, Dany let out a snort. “I think you can do better than  _ that _ , brother.”

Viserys glanced at Sansa again. “If you say so, sister. She looks pretty enough. I imagine her screeches are like sweet-“

Dany took him by the shoulder and gave Sansa a dismissive look. “Believe me.” She said it emphatically and with utter contempt, as if even looking at Sansa was beneath him. “We should go back, Father will expect us for the feast.”

She didn’t look at Sansa again, and they turned their backs on her. As they walked away, Dany swept an insect from her shoulder that had entangled itself in her hair.

Sansa felt pretty gutted, but also grateful, and extremely exhausted. If not for this encounter, she would be walking straight towards the river to take a midnight bath for no reason, in absolute darkness, all by herself. As if that wasn’t a serious cry for help.

Of course she felt an inevitable tug at her heart that Dany didn’t seem to care about her, hadn’t offered to accompany her and basically pretended she was a lowly acquaintance that Dany had had a short dalliance with. Or maybe she hadn’t pretended at all. She was of the Fae, after all. Now that was something to chew on. Then again, her indifference and trashing of Sansa’s qualities had probably saved her from Viserys’ claws.

Now, Sansa just wanted to go home. She felt so tired that even sleeping in a bed of roots and moss seemed like a good idea, but it was obviously a very bad idea. She had no idea how to get home.

She wanted to cry. 

A little glowing dot suddenly lit up in the darkness. It was a single firefly, and it was heading straight towards her. Sansa watched as it drew nearer, on collision course with her nose. When it was about a hand’s length away from her, it suddenly turned and buzzed around her right and towards the trees she had probably come from. When she didn’t immediately move, it drew back and kept buzzing around in circles until she followed it.

It led her all the way back to the garden, into the house and up to her bedroom, where she let it out the window and it disappeared into the dawn. She had walked all night.

_ “Oh, I know.”, Sansa said drily. “So sweet.” _

_ Julia shrugged. _

_ “Wait until I tell you about the flowers.” _

__

__

__

__

** VII. **

She had only just turned off her light the next evening when she heard a soft knock on her window, three times. Dany was sitting on her window sill outside, her knees drawn up as if she was riding a horse side-saddle. She leaned her head against the window and followed Sansa with her violet eyes as she appeared behind the curtains and opened the window.

“Cute room”, she said, glancing around.   


A soft wind was blowing her hair against her cheek. Sansa didn’t quite know whether to approach her. She only came up with: “Were you not busy at court?”

“I am.” Dany reached for her elbow, drawing her closer. “But I had a little time and I wanted to see whether you made it home.”

“Thanks to you.” She looked down at their entwined fingers. A shiver ran down her spine. “I don’t know why I was outside.”, she added in a quiet voice. “I was not myself.”

“It might be that the sirens were calling to you, as my brother said.” Dany looked thoughtful. “Draw a circle in salt around your bed and don’t disturb it.”

Sansa nodded. 

“My brother Viserys is cruel”, Dany went on. “Crueler than I..” An uncharacteristic horizontal line appeared on her forehead. “You saw it yourself. He would be sweeter than honey and take his time. And then he would tear you limb from limb. I wish you had not met.” It was plain on her face that she meant it. “He rarely comes to these parts of the forest, I had not thought he would follow me.”

“Why did you come? Is the court not far away?”

Dany made a face as if she’d rather not answer and was looking for a way around it. “I missed you”, she said then, uncomfortably, and quickly went on. “I saw that you were not home, and followed your footsteps.” Now it was her who avoided Sansa’s eyes.

Sansa bit her lip. “I missed you as well”, she said and squeezed the thorny fingers entangled with hers. To absolve Dany, she asked, “How has court been?”

“Eventful, one could say.” Dany shook her head in disapproval. “War is for conquest, but it does not make for trust. My family has treated those who bent the knee as their allies, but they are not. My eldest brother will not hold the courts together if he assumes as king.”

Sansa’s heart sunk a little. “And you mean to treat them as... defeated enemies?”

“That is what my brother Viserys’ believes... and I used to think so as well. But I’ve been thinking, maybe war was not the way to begin with.” Her thoughtful face turned into a smile. “But let’s not talk of such things. There have been festivities as well, and guests have come from everywhere to celebrate. We drink and dance all night.”

“I wish I could see it”, Sansa said. “From far away”, she added.

“From far away”, Dany echoed and took a strand of Sansa’s hair and wound it around her finger. “You like stories, don’t you?” She was looking at the bookshelf. 

“Very much.” Dany’s eyes were the most incredible shade of bright violet. Sansa saw herself reflected in them. “These days I sometimes feel like I’m in a story”, she said.

“You would love the court of summer if you were anything but mortal, my dear Alayne. If you ever came to court, they would sing songs of your hair”, Dany mused. “Something like  _ red as autumn, with sunset in her hair _ .” She brushed the strand back behind Sansa’s ear. “But they would be wrong”, she said and looked her directly in the eye. “You are winter’s daughter, through and through.”

Sansa didn’t know what that meant, but was very aware it was probably the most poetic thing anyone would ever say to her. Her gaze fell down to Dany’s red lips.

They kissed like lovers blind to their doom. A slow kiss, and painful like drawing a razor over her heart.

The next morning, Sansa found her window still ajar. A single purple-blue flower lay on the windowsill.

Her sewing box kept looking at her from the corner until she picked it up and sifted through her unfinished projects. She had been embroidering some handkerchiefs for their father, and a sleeping mask to gift to her friend Jeyne, who suffered from insomnia. Her fingers brushed the stitches and knots. Had it really been her who made them?

Downstairs, a different surprise waited for her. As she was pouring milk on her cornflakes, Bran came into the kitchen and asked if she could help him in the living room. Weird. 

In what had to be a first in years, her entire family had assembled in the living room and were waiting for her. It turned out that the only thing they were really missing was an intervention sign. 

Most of it went straight over Sansa’s head.

  
(Her mother: “You know we don’t control what you do, Sansa, but we trust you will tell us if you are in any trouble.” The  _ again _ was unspoken.)

(Arya: “What she wants to ask you is if you are pregnant. Did you get an abortion? Are you taking drugs?”)

(Her mother: “Arya!”)

(Her father: “Sansa, we’re worried about you. You have been... you have not been yourself.”)

(Her mother: ”... you are pale, you have not been eating, you walk around the house like a zombie, you sleep all day, you have... you are covered in scratches.”)

(Rickon: “Is someone scratching you, Sansa? Is it Joffrey?”)

(Arya: “Joffrey is in juvie, Rickon.” To Sansa: “But is it? Is it one of his lackeys?”)

(Bran, staring into the void, confirming: “He is currently in juvie.”)

(Her mother, exasperated: “Look, dearest, it’s obvious you are seeing someone. And if you... want to keep seeing this - person... then we can not stop you. But please...”)

This was followed by all kinds of advice, recommendations, orders, begging and threats regarding her safety, her responsibility, her rights, her virtue, her innocence, her  _ joie de vivre _ , her duty, and everything in between. And ever present: the implication that “we all have to move on”.

They left her, finally. She slouched weakly on the couch. The only one who stayed was Theon, who (like Jon) hadn’t said a word and evidently couldn’t be bothered. He switched on the TV. A Jackie Chan film with incessant commercial breaks was on. They didn’t exchange a single word or laugh once through the entire thing. Yet only Theon understood her. He missed Robb more than anyone.

She spent the following days in the garden, sitting in the shade of the rowan tree. Her siblings were not so far away, busy with themselves. Jon was off on police duty, and Theon hadn’t even come home the other night. Their parents were somewhere saving the nation. 

She was finishing her earlier projects, even if it might be weird to send Jeyne the mask after all this time. As she worked, her thoughts kept coming back to the pattern of a large red dragon, but there was nothing to stitch it onto that a faerie princess would possibly consider wearing. She couldn’t begin to imagine the technical and magical skill of faerie seamstresses, or the materials at their disposal. Sansa sighed.

** VIII. **

With the second half of August on the way, summer began to grow lazy, mild and golden. Sunsets were the color of blood oranges now, leaving glowing red shadows in Sansa’s room as she waited for night to fall. Somewhere, she imagined, Dany was tumbling out of a bed covered in flowers, surely, ready to begin another day.

Margaery was back from France as well, but was spending a few days at her grandmother’s house. As per usual, full of plans. She had marathoned  _ House of Cards _ with a friend she’d made at the beach and decided she would go into politics. Sansa hadn’t seen the show, but from what she understood, it wasn’t exactly meant to awaken political callings. 

Her reunion with Dany was not as harmonious or romantic as the short nightly visit four days ago had been, but began with Dany biting Sansa in the shoulder and chasing her around a tree. Screams, Sansa had realized, did not bother the fae at all. They were like birdsong to them.

The past few days had given Sansa some clarity, and so they argued over how to spend the evening. Margaery had told her about a summer festival happening over the next few days in town, so she suggested going. It was not a popular suggestion with Dany, who argued that the city was loud, ugly and dirty, and that mortal gatherings were dull and “lacked inspiration”. In turn, she -equipped with a beautiful wooden bow- suggested going hunting in the forest and swore to bring her the beating heart of a stag. 

It was a testament to Sansa’s willpower that they finally reached the bus station, even though they ended up riding two enchanted and fully saddled toads to the parking lot behind the cinema because the bus was five minutes late. (“I wait for no one”, Dany declared.) They parked them in the high grass behind a truck that seemed to have been abandoned there. Dany mumbled something and they had disappeared.

Sansa had also been able to convince Dany to put on glamour to appear at least a little more human. Ironically, even without the thorns on her arms and her horns Dany did not look any less otherworldly. She refused to glamour her crown, and her gown of ivy and thorns was not helping either, but among the summer festival crowd, they would most likely only stand out a little. 

Sansa herself was wearing a cream-colored dress with intricate flower details. After she had achieved victory by “cruelly withholding affection”, Dany had disappeared into the forest and come back ten minutes later with a beautiful flower crown she presented to Sansa, woven with wild white roses that bloomed in clusters of tiny, flat-topped flowers encircled by a ring of bigger white flowers. They reminded her of meringue buttercream cake decorations. Wearing them felt like a crown.

The trip to the city was still a disaster. As she had predicted, Dany hated everything about the festival: the subdued hum and “unbearably well-behaved bearings” of the crowd, the “pathetic” and “unpoetic” performances on stage, the “tasteless” and “artless” food, the “dissonant” music and the “inexpert” and “frankly, just sad” decorations. From what she could tell, Dany knew almost nothing of electricity and other aspects of “mortal life”, and was sufficiently stubborn not to be impressed by the wonders of modern technology.

For Sansa, it was the first time she dared to eat or drink in Dany’s present, and got reasonably drunk on apple cider to withstand Dany’s incessant tirades. At least she wasn’t making a grand scene, kidnapping children or playing pranks on innocent bystanders. Sansa had decided not to let her out of her eyesight. All in all, they blended in reasonably well in the dark. People probably thought they were part of a spectacle. 

She did, however, desperately need to rush to the bathroom before facing the toad ride back home. They entered the cinema and Dany promised to wait outside the bathrooms (that she refused to enter). Coming to the cinema would probably have been a better option for their citylife outing than the festival, Sansa decided. Maybe they should come back and see a film. There was no way Dany wouldn’t be impressed by fancy CGI effects.

Of course, when Sansa came back out, she had disappeared from sight. Sansa looked for her for five minutes with increasing worry before a janitor pointed her towards the back of the cinema, where the lights had already been switched off.

She found her standing by the light of a photo booth. “How curious”, she said before Sansa could bring forth her accusations, “This seems to make pictures.” She peered past the red curtain into the booth.

“Let’s.” Sansa took some coins out of her purse and inserted them. Then she took Dany’s hand and pulled her inside. There was little space on the bench, so they huddled together, Dany half-sitting on her lap. “It will take four pictures”, she told her. “There will be a flash each time.”

_ “Those pictures were really cute”, Sansa said. _ __

_ Dany’s eyes were huge on the first one, her mouth a startled ‘Oh’. Sansa herself was smirking in her flower crown and giving her bunny ears, which looked even funnier because the photo processing had erased Dany’s glamour and she looked like her usual self: a beautiful but deadly creature straight out of a horror movie.  _

_ They were looking at each other in the next one, and smiling in that way you do when you forget the world is real.  _

_ Dany was staring back into the camera in amazement on the third one, a huge grin on her face as Sansa kissed her cheek. _

_ Proper kissing on the last one.  _

The Starks were having a barbecue in the garden, allegedly to mark the end of summer. Invited were the Arryns, the Pooles, the Tyrells and her mother’s brother Blackfish, as well as “any other guests you wish to bring, as long as they behave themselves”, according to their mother. It was an awkward occasion. The inclusion of the Pooles let Sansa know that the actual reason for the gathering was to reignite her friendship with Jeyne and regain, through her, some idea of what was going on in Sansa’s life. (Jeyne told her mother everything, or used to.) Sansa was also convinced that her parents wanted to find out whether Margaery or her brother were her mystery lover.

It was her luck that Margaery was immune to social awkwardness and quickly involved Jeyne in a lively conversation on ethical clothing brands. Sansa chipped in from time to time and the initial chilliness between her and Jeyne faded. She eyed the other groups that had formed: Theon, Jon and Ygritte, Arya and her boyfriend were sitting with Margaery’s brothers Willas and Loras. Rickon and Bran dealt with whiny Robin in their own way, Rickon by being as wild as he always was and Bran by ignoring both of them. 

Sansa’s only real worry for the evening was that it would come to some kind of Spin the Bottle situation. Loras seemed to just naturally undress everyone he met with his eyes, but Willas was actually quite nice and had asked her thoughtful questions.

The three girls went up to her room so Margaery could show Jeyne how to contour. They kept on drinking. Jeyne made no comment on all the things that had to be so familiar to her in Sansa’s new room: the Venetian mask that hung on the wall above her bed, Sansa’s old diaries, her collection of gemstones and crystals, the mother-of-pearl case where she kept her favorite jewelry. But it felt comforting to see Jeyne sit on her bed again.

Margaery felt no such inhibitions. She went over to Sansa’s dresser and looked at the small collection of trinkets she had placed there: the curved blade, a half-burned candle from the faerie dance in the woods, a small stuffed wolf toy that Dany had won for her with one throw at can knockdown at the festival and the flower crown. “Are these from your lover?”, she asked teasingly, rolling the last word on her tongue.

Sansa almost choked on her glass of white wine. “My lover”, she echoed.

Margaery shrugged. “That’s what Arya said.” She took up the blade carefully and examined it closely. “She said you are violently in love, leave the house all night, and refuse to tell anyone who it is.”

“Oh”, Sansa said. She had felt the blush creep up her spine like a rash.

“If I were here, I would perhaps just follow you”, Margaery said and set the blade down again. “Oh, that’s so pretty.” She pointed at the flower crown. “Too bad that snowballs wilt so quickly. You should have worn it today if it’s fresh.” It wasn’t fresh, actually. It was a week old, but looked just as perfect as the night of their city adventure. Faerie magic, probably.

“Snowballs?”, Sansa asked.

“Yes”, Margaery said eagerly. “My grandmother has some in her garden as well. They’re called guelder roses actually, I think. But ‘snowballs’ is fitting because they stand for winter. And, well, age. The language of flowers”, she added when she saw Sansa’s face and laughed.

“Wow”, Sansa heard herself say. She stared at the flowers. There was a warm glow in her chest that wasn’t at all uncomfortable. “Winter and age”, she repeated.

Margaery nodded. “So tell us! We want to know!”

Sansa looked back and forth between her and Jeyne, who kept her features characteristically composed.

“It’s a girl, right? Are you in love?”

Sansa bit her lip. She was too distracted for this conversation. “Yeah”, she said for the first time, even though she knew it wasn’t precisely  _ love _ . She omitted details and lied through her teeth in the short tale that followed, knowing it would all be transported back to her family. Margaery and Jeyne were good listeners and didn’t press her. Margaery told them about a boy she had a crush on in her theatre group. Sansa wondered if Jeyne was still in love with Theon. 

Eventually, they went back down to sit with the boys and she could once again return to her own thoughts. Winter and age.  _ Winter and age. _ She still felt this glowing sensation, and an inmense appreciation for Dany. Winter and age. She couldn’t get over how thoughtful it was, how very  _ Dany _ , to give her a gift that recalled the most romantic thing Dany had told her and also told her she would be an old hag soon. 

It was a lovely evening, she decided. She even participated in the group conversation a little. When they said goodnight, Jeyne hugged her. “I’m so happy you’re in love”, she said.

Sansa stood outside after everyone had left and cried into her hands. When she looked up, she saw Jon standing in the kitchen window staring back at her. He held a try of glasses in his hands. He looked away quickly. 

That night was the last time Sansa felt the weightlessness of summer. She watched Dany shoot a stag with bow and arrow through drunken eyes and kissed her and grabbed her like never before. Blood rushed through her ears.

It was much later she realized the river was calling to her again. 

** IX. **

Things at summer court seemed to have grown difficult. Dany didn’t tell her anything, but she smelled of blood and fire. War. They only ever met at the edge of the forest now, and she made her swear not to enter the forest alone, to carry metal and salt with her at all times. She had to stay away for a while. She showed Sansa the back of her right arm. The mighty thorn that grew out of her elbow was chipped. “The next time we meet”, she whispered to her and squeezed her face as if to make a point, “ask to see my right elbow. Yes?”

It slipped by Sansa’s notice at first, but after that night, she no longer needed to sleep in order to dream once again. Everything had taken on a slight haze. Mist surrounded her day and night.

She could be walking through the garden at daytime and see Robb staring at her from behind the hedge. They eyed each other. There was no doubt. He was even wearing that stupid band’s t-shirt, but it was all ripped and wet and muddy. 

When she blinked, he was gone. 

She was careful with the circle of salt she poured out at night. She hummed even as the water was rushing through her ears again, the buzzing of water flies and the flopping of fishes --

But the song itself she heard only at night. Sansa dreamed she was underwater, swimming in grand strides over a coral reef. She hated water in her eyes, but in the dreams, she didn’t feel it at all. The water was cool and slick against her skin. And there it was, the song of the river, calling her to come in a long forgotten melody from a long forgotten underwater eden. Her heart thumped when she realized Robb was singing with them, and so could she.

Sansa came to herself once on the way, knee-deep in some thicket. One of her knees was bleeding. She looked at her hands, but there were webs growing between her fingers. She lifted them up, moving them in parallel away from her chest and then pushed to the sides, making a cross. Soon she would swim. She could hear the waves crashing against the stones more loudly now.

Running into something - someone knocked her to the ground. She was sweating a lot, she realized. It couldn’t be far now. There was grass under hear hands. She scrambled to her feet and squinted. Silvery locks, violet eyes. But it wasn’t Dany.

She kept saying she needed water as Viserys helped her stumble on. She was grateful. She wasn’t sure if she would make it on her own. 

It couldn’t be far now. 

He made her sit down on a large rock by the water. She stared into the foam longingly. 

“Take this”, he said and moved to feed her, pushing something soft into her mouth.

It was achingly sweet, like overripe fruit. A pear, maybe? Worse - it was rotten through and through. An image of worms came to her head. She choked, trying to spit it out, but he pressed a hard palm against so teeth, so hard she thought either his skin would rip or her teeth would give in. Tears welled in her eyes.

Her agony only lasted for a moment because then pure joy exploded inside of her. The terror she had felt was gone. She looked around. Viserys was looking at her as if she was still judging whether this would be fun or a bore. 

“You really should have told my sister to take you swimming”, he said. “You are so desperate for it.” He leaned in to push a strand of hair out of her face, not too gently. “The song of the sirens can be quite overwhelming for you mortals.”

Sansa smiled at him dizzily. The ground had begun shifting in the edge of her vision, folding inwards, coming towards them slowly as the song grew louder. “My brother”, she said.

He gave her a look of pity, endearment and disgust. “Little one”, he said. “I hope you don’t actually expect my sister to  _ wed _ you.” He left out a dry laugh. “Now that would be something!”

But she didn’t correct him. Her attention drifted away from him, over his shoulder and towards the steep water bed of the river, where she could see Robb’s curls sway in the waves, curling around the spiky rocks like sea weed. But she must be patient, she knew. The world was still folding itself. Soon, the river would fall onto them. Or maybe, she thought and smiled, that was a matter of perspective, and they would be falling into the river. She clawed at the rock under her excitedly.

“Come here”, Viserys said in a commanding voice all of a sudden. He was coming towards her, she could smell him. But it didn’t matter. 

Faintly, she heard his “What are you doing?” as she pushed herself off the rock and forwards, towards the surface of the water. She felt a crash, a thump, a rush of water and bubbles in her face. She was in all the way, swimming with Robb.

It was as cool as she had thought. She moved her arms as she had before, but there was no space. She couldn’t open her eyes. Her neck was stinging. 

The ugly taste of the fruit returned, and she choked.

Something had cut her face. She tasted blood in her mouth.  _ Salt _ , she thought. But it was too late. 

_ “Dany pulled me out”, Sansa said then. “She stabbed her brother and he either ran away or died, I don’t know, and then she pulled me out by my feet. Not exactly gently, I will say.” She pointed to a moon-shaped scar above her left eyebrow. “I got this when I hit a rock under water, when I jumped in head first.” _

_ She didn’t say that she had still heard the singing as she lay by the river with blue skin. She barely heard Dany, who was saying her name, not at first.  _

_ She saw the corral reaf for real then, as she had when they went snorkeling in Croatia as children and grinned at each other through their diving masks and doing thumbs-up every fifteen seconds just in case. Water always got into the mask when you grinned. It distorted your face.  _

_ In the clear water by the reaf, she touched Robb’s hand, and didn’t want to let go. _

__

__

__

Her siblings must have been an odd group when they came running out of the forest towards them. Sansa’s eyes were fluttering from time to time, and she had coughed, but otherwise she was out of it.

What Arya told her pretty matter-of-factly later was that they had decided to follow her that night. She had seen her on the stairs as Sansa was on her way to leave the house in a state of disarray, humming, unresponsive to a selection of Arya’s favorite insults. This seemed to suspicious, apparently, that Arya knocked on everyone’s doors and told them they would follow her.

“It was bloody hard to follow you, though”, Arya said. “You were like a shadow swishing around between the trees. And then you would randomly start sprinting for like ten minutes.” And she got up from the hospital chair and did a vivid imitation of what looked like a zombie trying out for a marathon.

When they reached them, though, chaos ensued. Dany was defensive and feral (the description Jon gave his collegues at the station) and the situation went downhill pretty fast. She must have tried to enchant them, but she couldn’t have known that the Starks (minus Sansa) enjoyed salted fish on Thursdays, even though Arya admitted she “started feeling a little funny at some point, like  _ actually _ merry if you would believe it”.

Jon “had brought his bloody gun”, as Arya went on, “and started waving it around like the moron he is. I don’t think your lady knew what a gun is, to be honest.”, she added almost gently. It ended with everyone screaming and Jon firing warning shots into the sky until a police dispatch arrived and Dany fled the scene.

Sansa woke up in the hospital with a serious case of cervical spine syndrome, some whiplash, a broken wrist and a face in serious need of some stitches. She hadn’t suffered brain damage from almost drowning, luckily, but everyone was very touchy about it. She barely remembered the psychological evaluations because she was so drugged out, but she must have talked about Robb a lot. Her mother was sitting by her bed day and night, stroking her hair.

_ “I mean, they already knew it was all about Robb”, Sansa said and squeezed her hands. “They had found him in a river, too. So everyone thought...”  _

_ She still couldn’t say it.  _

There were attempts to get behind what had happened. They took turns and everyone had a go at her eventually.  _ Who  _ was _ this woman? What did she do to you? You can tell me _ (her mother), _ Sansa, you’re a strong young woman _ (her father),  _ I’m here to tell them they want you to tell them _ (Bran),  _ I miss Robb too _ (Rickon),  _ Everyone’s really worried about you Sans _ (Arya). 

Sansa could imagine it: her mother with a knife in Jon’s back until he sat on a chair besides her bed and used first-year police academy good cop techniques on her until she screamed at him that she hated him and he had ruined everything. Nobody would ever make Theon talk to her, so he was the best company. 


	4. Pincushion

_ “Names called out across the water,  
_ _ Names I called you behind your back,  
_ _ sour and delicious, secret and unrepeatable,  
_ _ the names of flowers that open only once,  
_ _ shouted from balconies, shouted from rooftops,  
_ _ or muffled by pillows, or whispered in sleep.” _

—— Richard Siken, “ _ Saying Your Names” _

__

****

** X. **

The moving trucks were already parked in front of the house when her father drove her home in the company car.

Arya had been the one to tell her, one week into her stay at the hospital. Sansa had started unwrapping one of the gifts on her side table. Arya sat with her legs crossed at Sansa’s feet and had been leafing through a music magazine. Her nose was all red from her new piercing. She threw the magazine aside and said “Look, Sans, I’ve been chosen to tell you.” 

And that was that. 

“It  _ really _ sucks”, Arya said when she was finished, and maybe for the first time looked as if she really wished Sansa would say something.

Sansa changed the topic.

She cried every day in the hospital and she cried on the way back to the house, no longer home. It hadn’t been so long since they had moved in, but it had felt familiar. In her hospital dreams, Sansa was wandering the staircase, looking for the source of a melody that came from downstairs. 

Shadows danced on the wall opposite her bed upstairs. Some of them were ivies covering her whole room. Others had Dany’s profile. Sometimes there were branches reaching towards the top of the room. But Sansa was sound asleep in her bed with clean feet. Home.

No sense dwelling on it now.

She cried every day until her eyes were constantly puffy and burning all the time. The good thing: they repelled unwanted visitors better than hospital smells. She felt so weak she could barely lift a cup of tea. 

She cried and cried, but she didn’t resist. She didn’t even say  _ no _ , not even in a quiet voice or in her head, not yet.

_ Julia was shaking her head, hands over her mouth.  _ What a _ therapist. _

_ “You don’t understand”, Sansa said. “My sheets at home had flowers all over them. Everything was white in the hospital. My skin - I couldn’t really look away.” _

__

She avoided looking most of the time. Looking at her mother’s horrified, pleading eyes, looking at herself in the mirror, looking at her arms and legs, looking at the clock, looking at unopened gifts and especially that hand-made card Jeyne had sent her. 

She didn’t have to look to feel her bandaged, worn-through, fragile feet. 

Walking towards the house, her father put his hand on her shoulder as if they were entering a crime scene. They had only allowed her to come back (the  _ danger _ !) to pack her things herself after various tantrums, but her mother had made Theon and Jon sleep on garden chairs so she wouldn’t sneak out at night, which, of course, she did. 

After shoving things into boxes for the day, Sansa waited until the house was quiet. Then she put on her rowan necklace and turned her socks inside-out. On the way to the door, she lingered at her dresser, then took the curved blade and left. 

She had walked out of the house all summer in assorted stages of consciousness, and only been caught once. Nobody heard her as she left the house this time.

Jon and Theon were sitting by a small, dim garden lamp on the garden chairs near the rose bushes, their phone displays glowing in the dark. Sansa walked towards them directly. They watched her approach silently. 

She stopped before them, the blade hanging from her hand. “I am going.”, she announced. “I’ll be back.”

They said nothing and they didn’t stop her as the hedge opened to her one last time and she passed through, disappearing from sight. 

She had to walk a good while before she saw silvery hair poking out behind a tree. Dany made no move toward her, though. Her hair was softly moving in the breeze.   


Sansa found she was choking on something acid and desperate in her stomach clawing its way out of her until she trembled and stopped walking. Her knees were shaking. She had to hold on to a tree to steady herself.

Dany looked more beautiful than she’d ever looked, but her eyes were eyes were hard. She watched silently as Sansa started crying.

“Is this what you came for, mortal?”, she asked then with her chin high, glancing at the blade in Sansa’s hand. “You shouldn’t have bothered.”

Her careless tone hurt Sansa more than she had expected. She felt like a wounded animal. And it was her who was holding the knife. “Dany”, she said.

Then Dany made a grimace and looked away. The next moment she was standing close to Sansa, breathing into her. Sansa turned to her like a moth to a flame. The kiss was all breath, all teeth. They lips barely touched. How strange that pressing herself against Dany was just like pressing a freshly healed wound against a knife.

Dany took the blade from her and dropped it. “You could come with me”, she said then, but her face was strained and unconvinced. Her claws traced Sansa’s healed arms slowly, all the way down from her shoulders to her trembling wrists. “There are mortals at court. You could stay.” She shook her head. “No. I know. I couldn’t protect you.” 

_ Couldn’t:  _ both a past and possible state of things. Faeries cannot protect anything.

Sansa stared at her face through a stream of tears. At some point between walking into the forest and now, she had understood in her head what she had long before known.

“When I first saw you in the forest, you moved with such determination. I saw the blue of your eyes and I was sure you were enchanted. No mortal could have eyes like yours.” Dany narrowed her own eyes. “And all this time, the sirens were calling to you.”

“It was my brother Robb”, Sansa said. “He was killed on a bridge and drowned. I saw him. He... he called me to him.” She shuddered, as if it was already a distant memory.

“So you will leave.” Dany said it artlessly, her eyes hardened again. 

Sansa nodded. She felt drier now, tired but clear-headed. 

“It is alright as it is, then.”, Dany went on. “Mortals’ minds are so fickle, you will forget at once.” It stung, but Sansa knew better than to protest. “And the fae always find distraction.”

It was cruel, and sliding along the border to a lie as close as possible. Sansa didn’t answer. She put both arms around Dany’s neck and pulled her close to her. She knew she would carry this moment for the rest of her life, turn it around in her palm until it was a small stone of concentrated regret. And yet.

Dany closed her eyes and their noses bumped against each other.

How sad and fitting, Sansa thought, that this was the first time they hugged, arms slung around each other, foreheads pressed together, swaying. 

“Don’t cry now”, Dany whispered and wiped away a tear. “Don’t ruin your tears for me.”

Sansa said the stupidest thing she could think of. “Will you remember me?”

But Dany wouldn’t answer. She pressed their foreheads together so hard that it hurt. (What didn’t?)

Then she was gone.

There would be no goodbye.

** XI. **

Summer was really clinging on to its last days. Sansa looked through her gifts the afternoon of the final move. She did it carelessly, ready to stuff whatever it was into boxes. Her room was empty now, everything packed and stacked in one of the trucks. Only two boxes remained open, both marked  _ fragile _ . In a matter of hours, they would also be gone, and she with them.

She had cried herself to sleep every night she was back in the house and she would for a long time after the move. Some kid had left star stickers on the ceiling of her bedroom that she stared at as she contemplated all the questions she had never asked, like how old Dany was and what about the Courts and what dreams she had and what languages she spoke and what happened with the Targaryen dragonriders. 

What she didn’t know yet: Eleven days until Jon presented them with the wolfish puppies, one for each of the siblings and even one for Theon that would have been Robb’s, even though Jon told him he should have given him a pug instead. 

Twenty days until she took a walk in the park at the other end of town with Jeyne,  _ Lady _ shuffling in her arms. 

Fifty until her mother smiled at her and stroked her hair.

The gifts were inconsequential, for the most part, thoughtful if she had opened them in the hospital: spa face masks, a basket of gourmet salty and sweet snacks, soft socks with owls on them. The last gift had a small card with a sunflower on it.  _ Get well soon my friend! xx Margaery _ , it read. 

She remembered Margaery’s visit now. One of the bad days. Margaery had managed to cheer up the entire room including the nurse who had come to rub a cooling balm on Sansa’s neck, minus Sansa. Finally, she had given her the gift with a grimace. “I got this for you a while ago”, she said. “I thought you’d like it. But now I’m not sure you’ll want it anymore.”

It was an old, beautifully bound book with a dark yellow soft leather book cover, lined with golden ornaments and green and red drawings of roses. Sansa’s fingers slid over the cover. Inside, pages upon pages held beautiful illustrations of flowers in aquarels. It was called  _ The Language and Sentiment of Flowers. _

She sat on her floor for a long time and held it closed. 

Finally, she took a deep breath and began to flip through the pages one by one until she found the one she was looking for.  _ Scabiosa (Scabious; Pincushion Flower). Scabiosa is a genus of about 70 species of flowering plants in the family  Caprifoliaceae _ ...

Her breath hitched, and she almost laughed when her eyes zeroed in on the most important part:  _ Unfortunate love _ , written in ornate letters. Instead she screamed into the pillow she had kept for the car ride intermittently until it was time to leave. 

As she hugged the pillow still in the car, she knew what her next embroidery project would be then. Pincushion flowers, how fitting. 

_ A splendid night _ , Sansa thought as she looked out of the car window watching as they went down the slope of the road, and the house and the garden and the forest and all the other little overgrown houses disappeared from view. 

** T h e E n d **

__

_ “How would you feel about meeting her again now?”, Julia asked after a long silence.  _

_ Sansa shrugged. Too quickly, maybe. She felt a tightness in her jaw. “She has most likely forgotten me. If anything, I was a summer fling.” _

_ “Was she that to you?” _

_ “Well... no.” Sansa didn’t like that question. “A ‘summer fling’ is not exactly what you call it when it sends you to therapy ten years later.”, she said defensively. Still, it came out. “It wouldn’t work. I’m not seventeen anymore. I don’t look seventeen anymore, that’s for sure.” _

_ “Let me tell you how laughable it is to complain about your old age at twenty-six.” _

_ “Are you  _ really _ telling me to look for her?”  _

_ This was what she did, what she had always done best: diversion laced with truth. _

_ “I mean, of course she wasn’t just a summer fling to me, but I might as well make her another item of on the list of people who traumatized me as a teenager. You get that?” She gulped down her water and slamemd the glass on the side table. ”Are you even a real therapist? I knew you were quote  _ open-minded _ unquote, but what are you even writing those notes for? Research for your paranormal romance novel?" _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking with this story if you made it to the end.

**Author's Note:**

> Say hi on [Tumblr](http://dollfacerobot.tumblr.com).


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